Again, sorry for dropping this series.
It might be hard for you to believe, but I went through some hard stuff during the past 2 months, and writing these fanfics reminds me of that time.
But forget that; the least I can do is upload all the advanced chapters I had on my [email protected] you enjoy it, as that's the least I can do.
-<<>>-
Over the next few days, Izuku Midoriya learned how to fall.
Not metaphorically, literally. Gran Torino knocked him down so many times that the act of hitting the floor became a skill in itself. Day one had been a disaster. Day two had been a slightly more informed disaster. Day three... Day three was when things started to click.
It started with the microwave.
Gran Torino had been heating a plate of taiyaki when the microwave beeped. In that moment, watching the old man's hand move to open the microwave door, Izuku's brain made a connection that changed everything.
The microwave. The beep. The signal that something was ready.
His body was the microwave. One For All was the food inside. He had been trying to use the quirk like a weapon — activating it for strikes, channelling it into punches, turning it on and off like a switch. But that wasn't how it worked. That wasn't how a body worked.
A body didn't turn on and off. A body was always on. Always running. Always processing. The heart never stops. The lungs worked without instruction. The muscles fired in patterns that the brain had learned so deeply they required no conscious thought.
What if One For All could work the same way?
Not activated for a punch. Not channelled for a kick. But distributed constantly across his entire body.
All he had to do is reduce the total output. Something around five percent.
He tried it that afternoon. Spread the power through his body like blood through veins — not concentrated in his fists or his legs, but diffused, even, running through every muscle fibre simultaneously.
Green lightning flickered across his entire body. Not the explosive discharge of a targeted attack. A steady, constant glow. Like a current flowing through a circuit.
With his confidence up, Izuku finally moved.
And for the first time since inheriting One For All, his body felt like it belonged to him.
Gran Torino came at him. Once again.. But this time, he dodged.
Gran Torino's eyes widened.
"Well, well," the old man said, landing on the opposite wall. "Looks like you finally figured it out."
Full Cowling. That was what Izuku called it. The technique of distributing One For All across his entire body at a constant five percent, turning his whole frame into an enhanced platform rather than concentrating power into individual strikes.
Gran Torino smiled from his perch on the wall.
"Not bad, kid. Not bad at all."
However, Izuku was not the only one growing.
Across Japan, in agencies and offices and training grounds and patrol routes, the students of Class 1-A were learning what it meant to be heroes.
***
The Number Four Hero's agency was pristine as always. Polished floors. Organised desks. Staff members who spoke in polite tones and dressed as if they were attending a gala rather than fighting crime.
And Bakugo hated every second of it.
Best Jeanist was a man whose entire philosophy revolved around presentation. How a hero looked. How a hero spoke. How a hero made the public feel safe, not through violence but through presence.
Because of that.... He had combed Bakugo's hair.
The explosive hedgehog had been tamed into something that resembled a respectable young man, and Bakugo had spent the first twenty minutes staring at his reflection with the expression of someone who was about to do crime.
"A hero's appearance is the first thing the public sees," Best Jeanist said during their first patrol. "Before your quirk, before your combat record, before your name. They see you. And what they see determines whether they feel safe or afraid."
"Good," Bakugo said. "They should be afraid."
"Of villains, yes. Not of heroes."
They patrolled the shopping district. Best Jeanist walking with the poise of a runway model, nodding to fans, signing autographs, demonstrating the "tapestry of trust" that he preached — the invisible connection between a hero and the public that was built through visibility, consistency, and warmth.
Bakugo walked beside him with his hands in his pockets and his face set in its default murder expression.
A child approached them. Small. Maybe six years old. The kid looked up at Bakugo with wide eyes and said, "Hey! You're that angry guy from the Sports Festival!"
"I'M NOT ANGRY!" Bakugo yelled.
Anddd the child cried.
Best Jeanist sighed, There is a lot of work to do.
***
Gunhead's agency operated out of a traditional dojo that had been converted into a modern hero training facility.
Gunhead himself was a contradiction — a massive, intimidating man with a quirk that literally turned his arms into guns, who spoke with the gentle enthusiasm of a kindergarten teacher and made heart shapes with his hands when he got excited.
Which made Uraraka adore him.
"When someone attacks with a blade," Gunhead demonstrated, his massive frame moving with surprising fluidity, "your instinct will be to step back. Don't. Plant your front foot, use it as a pivot, and rotate your body offline. Then grab the wrist and the back simultaneously."
Uraraka practiced. Again and again. The grab. The pivot. The disarm. Her gravity quirk enhanced it. A touch to the attacker's wrist at the right moment made them weightless for a fraction of a second, destroying their balance and making the takedown effortless.
"BEAUTIFUL!!" Gunhead yelled, making the heart shape. "Your quirk synergises perfectly with close-combat! The potential is ENORMOUS!"
By the end of the week, Uraraka could disarm a knife-wielding opponent in three seconds and put them on the ground in five. She had walked into Gunhead's agency as a girl who floated things.
She would walk out as something considerably more dangerous.
***
The Oki Mariner rocked gently on the ocean surface. Tsuyu stood on the deck, her tongue catching salt spray, her wide eyes scanning the horizon.
Selkie — the Sea Rescue Hero, a massive man with a seal quirk who desperately wanted to be considered cute — had taken Tsuyu under his flipper from day one. His sidekick, Sirius, had bonded with her over the shared discovery that life on a hero ship was mostly cleaning, maintenance, and waiting.
"Being a hero isn't always exciting," Sirius told her. "Most days, it's just this. Watching the water. Keeping the ship ready. Waiting for the call that might not come."
"That's okay, ribbit," Tsuyu said. "I like the water."
Suddenly a call came.
Smugglers on a stolen cargo ship. A chase across open water that ended with Selkie trapped in the bowels of the criminal vessel, Sirius wrapped in the tentacles of an octopus-quirked villain, and Tsuyu making a decision that would define the kind of hero she was becoming.
She trusted her captain and held her ground. When Selkie burst free, he found his intern standing over a subdued villain with the calm composure of a girl who had been born for the water and had just proven it.
"I'm staking my name on it," Selkie told her afterward. "You'll be a great hero someday."
"Thank you, ribbit."
***
The Number Three Hero's agency was... not what Tokoyami expected.
Hawks had invited Tokoyami for reasons that became clear almost immediately.
"So," Hawks said, lounging in a chair with his wings draped over the backrest, "tell me about the League of Villains."
Tokoyami blinked. "Excuse me?"
"The USJ attack. You were there. Class 1-A. I picked you because I figured someone from your class could fill me in. Plus, you know, we're both bird-themed. That's like twenty percent of why I picked you."
"...Twenty percent?"
"The other fifty percent was the villain intel. And the remaining thirty is because Dark Shadow is cool and I wanted to see it up close."
Tokoyami spent most of his internship being relegated to menial tasks — filing, organising, the unglamorous backend of a top hero's operation.
Hawks was friendly but distracted, his attention split between a dozen ongoing operations that Tokoyami wasn't cleared to know about.
It was frustrating. Tokoyami had hoped to learn combat techniques, flight strategies, and methods for controlling a quirk with its own will.
Instead, he learned something else: that the hero world at the highest levels was as much about information as it was about fighting. The Number Three Hero spent more time reading reports than throwing feathers.
He left the internship without having learned a single combat technique.
But he left with his eyes open wider than they had been before.
***
And as everyone's Internship was going on smoothly... something was stirring in the shadows of Hosu city.
-<<>>-
I will be upload all the P@treon chapters here on regular basis. (I have around 15+ chapters more)
Again sorry for dropping this fanfic.